Moving On
by Alzbeta Batoriova
Summary: Ryo is joined by an old friend and lingering regrets in New York. Post Gaiden.


"Moving On"

By: Seinasu

Disclaimer: _Yoroiden-Samurai Troopers_ is copyright © Sunrise.

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Author's Note: (05/18/07): This is updated for spelling and grammar. The overall story, however, is left unchanged. And I took out the African reference of Luna, because she is NOT African. According to the official Sunrise publications, she is Asian-American.

Author's Note (04/10/02): I wrote this really weird, short piece for my English 12 class. I was to write a story using dialogue between two characters over dinner. One of the characters has to tell the other something important. So I decided to take one of my favorite YST pairings and I came up with this. Comments are very much welcomed!

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Ryo sat at the table playing with a plate of turnips. They were small, wrinkled masses of orange lumps that smelled like dirty, sweaty socks. He couldn't bear to eat another bite. He hated turnips. They looked old and squishy. Was this what brains tasted like? How could Americans eat this?

"You hate turnips," a female voice stated from across the table. "The first time you came here, I introduced you to turnips and the moment you put some in your mouth you spat 'em out. Why do you keep eating 'em every year?"

Ryo lifted his head and saw Luna sitting before him. She wore a look of amusement on her face. He scowled and pushed a small lump along his plate with his fork.

"It just... Well..." he began quietly, "these things... They remind me of you. That's all. Kinda stupid, huh?"

The fourteen-year-old New Yorker flashed him a smile and chuckled. "I've been reminded of many things in my life," she said, "but turnips is the first. Should I be flattered?"

"Well, this is me we're talking about," Ryo laughed.

"Ryo," Luna sighed as she folded her arms on top of the table. There were no dinner plates or glasses of soda on her side. It was almost eight o'clock and they had been sitting in the corner of the restaurant for nearly two hours. Ryo didn't seem bothered by this. "Every August you fly out of Japan, come to New York, sit in this very restaurant, and order the same thing: turnips and soda."

Ryo paused from pushing his turnips around and lowered his fork. He brushed back his jet black hair from his tiger blue eyes and said, "It was the only time we spent together. On our one date you took me to this place. I didn't want to let the memory go. Was it three years ago? Four? Maybe ten. I don't know. We had only known each other for what? Not even a week? After what happened..." He groaned and sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair. "I can't help but come back here every year."

A few people sitting nearby glanced in his general direction but quickly returned to their own conversations. Ryo never seemed bothered by the attention he gained. Luna quickly grew frustrated with him.

"You wanna know something?" she asked, her voice suddenly rising. "Wait, I won't even ask you because I'm gonna tell you. Ryo, you have to stop doing this to yourself. Coming here every year on this day isn't going to help you move on!"

"Shut up...!" Ryo hissed through clenched teeth. "Luna, just shut up! I can't forget what happened!"

More people glanced in his general direction. This never bothered him because he was used to the attention. Every year this happened and every year he ignored them. Couldn't a guy come to a restaurant and talk to someone he cared about?

Luna pushed back her bangs and her fingers drifted to the orange bow from the back of her head. Quietly she removed the bow and reaching out, she took one of Ryo's hands.

"You have to get over me," she murmured as she placed the bow in the palm of his hand. She closed his fingers over it and drew her arm back. "You're right--it's been a long time since we really got together. I know you've heard this from the others and hell, you probably don't want to hear it from me but..."

Ryo closed his eyes and bit his lip. _No_, he thought_. I can't... No, I can't hear this. I don't want to hear this.  
_  
"I'm dead, Ryo. Like my big brother, I died young, wild, and reckless. But y'know something? I'm really glad I've met you."

Ryo's eyes remained closed but his fingers laced together with hers. Her hand felt so warm and soft, just like the way they felt so many years ago.

A few tables away, murmurs and whispers circulated.

"That poor boy," a woman commented to her husband.

"I see him every year comin' and talkin' to nobody at that same table," an elderly man noted.

"Do you follow him around, Grandpa?" a young voice inquired.

The elderly man snorted, "Don't be stupid. I can't help it if I like to come here every other weekend for dinner! Guess whatever's going on with that kid, it must have happened on this day."

"I wonder who Luna was...?"

Ryo felt Luna's warm hand squeeze his one last time before she began to pull away. Frightened, he opened his eyes and cried out, "WAIT!"

Much to his distraught, the girl was gone. He was alone at the table. The turnips on his plate remained a cold, orange, wrinkled lump.

The waiter approached his table and quietly placed the bill beside his plate. He bent down and whispered, "Listen kid, losing a loved one's really hard... I know how you feel."

The dark haired young man swallowed a lump in his throat. He rubbed the back of his neck but paused as he realized he still held the orange bow.

"I guess," he began with slight skepticism, "she had to tell me herself... I'd come here every year on the day she died and I'd talk to her... Or... I think I'd talk to her... Everything seemed fine..."

"Sir, I think... It would be best if you would leave and not come back," the waiter advised softly. "Not just for our sakes but for yours as well. Things will get better as you learn to move on."

Ryo sat silently for a few moments before he nodded to the waiter. As the waiter left his side, Ryo picked up his fork and gingerly plucked the turnips from his plate. Placing the orange bow in his pocket, he happily shoveled the cold vegetables into his mouth and suddenly found a fresh new taste for them.

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THE END 


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